There is a seductive argument gaining traction in certain policy circles: American courts are too slow, too expensive, and too clogged with cases. The solution, we are told, is inevitable. We must streamline. We must modernize. We must make the judiciary "efficient."
This narrative is being deployed to justify everything from compressed discovery timelines to caps on appeals to reduced access to oral arguments. The efficiency frame sounds reasonable on its surface. Who wants a broken system? But underneath this pragmatic language sits a more troubling agenda: reshaping judicial power in ways that systematically advantage certain parties and disadvantage others.
The efficiency argument deserves serious scrutiny because it obscures real questions about whose interests get served when courts move faster.
Consider who tends to benefit from expedited procedures. Large corporations with in-house legal teams and endless resources can mobilize quickly. Individual litigants often cannot. Citizens challenging government action typically need more time to gather evidence and build cases. Wealthy defendants can afford the premium legal talent required to navigate compressed timelines. Poorer ones cannot. Speed sounds neutral. In practice, it distributes advantages unevenly.
The framing is also troubling because it presents a false choice. We are told the system is broken and efficiency is the answer. But efficiency toward what end? Faster outcomes are not inherently better outcomes. Justice delayed may be justice denied, but justice rushed is often injustice served cold. These are not equivalent problems.
Recent litigation involving states suing the federal government over data sharing, tariffs, and other regulatory actions illustrates the stakes. These cases involve genuine constitutional questions about the proper scope of executive power. They require courts to think carefully, hear evidence thoroughly, and issue reasoned decisions. Speed cannot be the primary value here. Correctness matters more.
This is not to say the judiciary does not face real challenges. Case backlogs in some jurisdictions are genuine problems. Court funding is inadequate in many places. Some procedures are genuinely antiquated. These issues deserve serious attention.
But the efficiency movement conflates "fixing legitimate problems" with "restructuring courts to favor certain interests." The second agenda is far more ambitious and far more dangerous.
Courts exist partly to serve as a check on power. They exist to protect individuals against the state. They exist to enforce rules that would otherwise be ignored by the powerful. All of these functions require time. They require careful deliberation. They require that smaller voices not be drowned out by better-resourced opponents.
When we optimize courts primarily for speed, we inevitably optimize them against these functions.
The efficiency narrative also conveniently sidesteps questions about resources. If courts are genuinely underfunded, the answer is to fund them better, not to make them smaller. If judges cannot keep up with dockets, the answer is more judges, not rushed decisions. These solutions require money and political will. They are harder than simply telling people to litigate faster.
Yet they would actually solve the problem rather than shifting its burden.
What concerns me most is how inevitable this all seems. Policy experts cite efficiency as though it is self-evident. Bar associations debate how to implement faster procedures, often not whether to. Legislators draft bills narrowing judicial review in the name of streamlining. The momentum feels fixed.
This is precisely when skepticism is most necessary.
American courts are not perfect. They face real problems. But the solution is not to make them faster at the expense of fairness. The solution is to make them work better for everyone. That requires asking harder questions about whose interests efficiency actually serves and what values we are willing to sacrifice in its name.
Speed is not a principle. Justice is.